


Window

by Basingstoke



Category: White Collar
Genre: Lingerie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 03:21:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4375259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Neal kisses Mozzie, not for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Window

He shows Mozzie immediately. "New anklet. Do you like it?" 

"Oh, that Suit, such a joker."

"He smells something."

"We can up our deodorant," Mozzie says. He sighs. "Nine months." 

"You birthed a bright and shining star." 

"Who was strangled in the cradle." 

"That's disturbing," Neal says. 

"Slightly. Well, this is a new and exciting challenge." Mozzie turns, pours a glass of wine. When he turns back, Neal leans down and kisses him. 

The first time he kissed Mozzie, ten years ago or more, Mozzie's response was, "I assume you have a good argument for why this is a good idea." 

"Several." 

"Dispensing with the obvious, straight is just a label." 

"Right."

"So, you were overwhelmed by my good looks?" 

"The brain is the largest sexual organ." 

"I understand your sudden lust, then."

"Not that sudden." 

"Leaving only my response. Did you consider my love of fine lingerie?" 

"They make lingerie for men. Custom silk waist cincher, sheer stockings with a back seam. I'll even shave. Everything." 

"Strangely intriguing," Mozzie said then, and kissed him back. 

Now, Mozzie kisses back, then says, "It feels like a threesome with your tracker." 

"It almost is. He can see me walking around my apartment. He knows when I go to bed."

"Mm. Closet."

"I don't want jizz on my suits!"

"Table, then." 

"In front of the windows? Fine by me, but…" Neal grins at the face Mozzie makes. 

"Why don't you have curtains, anyway? Come on. I will not have my tuchus ogled by government spy drones." Mozzie marches back to the bed and starts to strip. 

He's all bear under his clothes, the fuzz on his chest and stomach edging up onto his back. Neal steps up behind him and slides his hands up Moz's sides and around to his nipples. He flexes his hands, pressing through the hair into the solid warmth of him. He kisses Mozzie's ear. 

"I liked Sara," Mozzie says. "She was good in a con." 

"I don't want to talk about her when I'm with you."

"Yes, well, I'm used to sharing you. When's the last time you shaved?"

"Waxed last week. Wait here." 

Neal retreats to the closet, leaving his shirt on a chair, his shoes by the door, his trousers hung up neatly. He leaves socks and underwear on the floor and opens his Mozzie drawer. 

(Though, in fact, Sara had seen this drawer and enjoyed it just as much as she enjoyed his smooth legs. She and Mozzie have similar tastes in many ways. He has to tamp down how much he misses her.) 

He comes back in his red silk robe, legs bare. Mozzie is in his bed. He grins. "Want a lap dance?" he asks. 

"Actually, yes, I would."

Neal puts some music on. He panther-walks to the bed, where Mozzie has slid upright, his bare legs over the side of the bed, sheet clutched over his lap. He bends down and kisses him. 

He loves Mozzie's eyes on him. He loves that Mozzie is responding to his performance, not his looks. Mozzie is the only person he's ever known who loves him for his mind first. 

He slides his hands down from Mozzie's cheeks to his chest, swinging his hips, and kisses him with plenty of tongue. "Hey, brainy," he murmurs. 

Mozzie trails his hand over the red silk as Neal turns around with a slow shimmy. He backs up into Mozzie's lap and rubs his ass across the sheet. 

Mozzie strokes his back. "What are you wearing?" he asks. 

Neal slips the knot of the robe. "Unwrap me and see." 

He spreads his legs, straddling Mozzie, as Mozzie takes the collar of the robe and peels it down. Underneath, Neal is wearing a tailored lace camisole and shorts, fastened with a zipper down his back and another on each hip, just sheer enough to hint at smooth, naked skin inside. He also has a garter on each thigh with a lock pick hidden in one and a liquid cosh in the other. Just in case. 

Mozzie finds the hidden treats, of course. "So you have designs on my money?" 

"Oh, that's not for you. I just like to be prepared." Neal turns again, rolling through Mozzie's hands, and he climbs up onto the bed. Mozzie backs up underneath him until he's flat on the bed. "I trust you," Neal says. 

Mozzie's breath catches as Neal shakes his ass on top of him. He body rolls, shimmies, bends down to lick Mozzie's cheek, but avoids Mozzie's mouth until Mozzie gives in and grabs his waist. 

"Well done," Mozzie says. A second later the shorts are unzipped and he's straddling Mozzie in nothing but shirt and garters. His cock is hard and naked, crossing Mozzie's dense hair. 

Mozzie strokes his thighs. "You want this?"

"Yeah, just like--" 

"Mm-hm." Mozzie knows him well. Mozzie slides a finger up inside him and he shimmies so that he can feel it, really feel it. He never feels entirely real unless someone is touching him. 

He gropes himself, waking up his nerve endings, and he pulls the camisole down below his nipples. His tracker is bumping up against Mozzie's ass. He pinches his nipples as he grinds down on Mozzie's hand. 

"Careful of my wrist," Mozzie says. 

Carpal tunnel. He's been putting in a lot of computer time cracking Neal's anklet. Neal moves up, taking the weight fully on his knees, and tosses his head back as he rubs his nipples flat against his chest. 

He loves Mozzie's fingers inside him. "God you feel good," he sighs. The straps of the camisole pin his arms to his sides. 

"Well, you are an extremely alluring man," Mozzie says. He tips Neal over on his side. 

They move together, Neal's leg around Mozzie's waist, Mozzie's fingers deep inside Neal's body. Mozzie kisses his collarbones and his chest. It's all prelude to Mozzie tipping up his hips and sinking his cock inside, which is just, just perfect. 

He hugs Mozzie's neck with both arms. Mozzie's cock prods his most sensitive places, which is really secondary to the fact that it's Mozzie skin to skin both inside and out. They've never used condoms, yes it's risky, no he doesn't care about the risks, yes he loves feeling him. 

"Hold on," Mozzie says, and Neal holds on while Mozzie rolls him onto his stomach and starts fucking him again. 

Mozzie is kissing his back and holding his cock and fucking his ass. All around him. He settles into it and he's ready to come whenever Moz is ready, which is in nine…

five….

two…

Mozzie makes a muffled sound against his spine and comes into his ass and Neal lets go and comes into Mozzie's hand. He lies still, breathing, while his heart rate settles and Mozzie slumps into his body. 

This is the calmest he ever gets. 

*

Mozzie is still wrapped around him in the morning. Neal slips out of bed to the bathroom and leaves the lingerie in the closet. He returns to bed naked and Mozzie pulls him back into his arms. 

"Let's get married in Vegas," Mozzie murmurs. 

"Sure. Which name will you use?" 

"I don't know, which name will you use?" 

Neal strokes his cheek. "I'll make a new one." 

Mozzie sighs and gets up to make his own trip to the bathroom, wrapped in Neal's red silk robe. Neal strikes a coquettish pose for his return. 

It's spoiled by a knock on the door. He sighs. "Who is it?" 

"Mimosas, darlings," June says. 

"Ooh!" Mozzie bustles across the apartment and opens the door, leaving Neal to scramble a sheet over his body. 

"You're not a gentleman, Moz! Give me back my robe!" 

Mozzie carries the tray of mimosas in. "Excuse me, June, I'll make myself decent." He whisks a glass into the closet with him. 

"Do that, Moz," Neal says, wrapping himself up toga-style. 

June smiles at him. "Good to see you boys enjoying your youth." 

"Stop it. I know about your flower delivery man." He drops a kiss on her cheek and sits down beside her. He takes a mimosa. It's delicious. 

June looks at Moz as he returns mostly-clothed (in his own clothes, which occupy a not insignificant portion of Neal's closet). "You did say you were on again, off again," she says. "Neal, you should stop playing with his heart."

"It's not a tragedy, he is who he is," Mozzie says. "There's always another woman." 

"You're harder to please than any of my girlfriends," Neal says. 

"I'm a man of refined tastes." 

June laughs. 

"Besides, his mother neglected him, he has a craving for female company I can never satisfy," Mozzie says. 

The orange juice catches in Neal's throat. He can see the _oops_ pass across Mozzie's face; Moz usually catches his mistakes once they escape his mouth. "Freud was a hack," Neal says. He thinks he sounds normal. "I should get dressed." 

He can't, of course, stop thinking about his mother passed out on the couch, still drunk from the night before, about the sick feeling in his stomach knowing he was going to be late to school again, about sitting in the principal's office thinking of ways not to get in trouble. his first cons were all to cover up for his mother. Stealing lunch money, vulnerable dollars sitting in coat pockets, one pull and then he had something to eat. 

Coming home, mommy has a headache so he stands on a stool and makes them both spaghetti. He told Mozzie this years ago and Mozzie wondered aloud how he managed to have a more Dickensian childhood than himself, the foundling in a basket.

He's over it. All of it. He loves women because women are great and sex is fun. He's capable of having a healthy relationship. He'd still be having one with Sara if she were still in the country. (And if she could forgive him for lying to her.)

He emerges combed, shined, in suit, waistcoat, full Windsor, tie pin, collar bar, cuff links, sock garters keeping his lines smooth under the tracking anklet. Mozzie is gone. He never can apologize. June is still there, though, refreshing both glasses. 

"Lovely. Though the other look suits you just as well," June says. 

"Mozzie taught me how to undress. We've been together for a long time. A bullet didn't break us up, so an argument definitely won't," Neal says. 

"Arguments hurt far worse than bullets." She takes his hand. "You know I love you." 

He wants to lay his head in her lap so badly that his cheek aches. Instead, he gives her his broadest, best smile. "I know." 

*

end.


End file.
